Some lead to kitchens in happy homes, some lead to sterile labs where nameless experiments are performed. For every door, there is a destination. And, for every destination, a doorway. In most cases, people use these doors every day with no unusual effects. The doors swing open, the person walks through, and they find themselves in another normal, though not always well-known area of their lives. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing worth writing home about, and certainly nothing to be afraid of.

But, there are other doors.

There are doors that open up onto endless black pits of despair where God knows what could await a traveller unlucky enough to take their path. Doors that open up to reveal unspeakable horrors with razor-sharp teeth and rending talons. Doors that bring our deepest, most vivid nightmares into stark realities. These doors can lead you to certain death, or leave you wandering in a world wholly unlike your own, yet, also hauntingly familiar. Maybe you'll see familiar faces, hear familiar voices, but, they're never quite right. Maybe you'd eventually grow accustomed to this new place, with its new people. Maybe, over time, you'll find that this new place doesn't have any of the nightmares you were so used to in your old home. But, while you're marvelling over the new freedoms and the new life that you've found, you're turning a blind eye to the new darkness that's hiding around the next corner. Then, by the time you realize the thing slithering around in the attic, it's already too late. Some say that grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. What they don't say is that the greener grass sometimes hides the more dangerous secrets.

They say that somewhere in the world, there's someone who's exactly like you. You just need to look hard enough. Well, we already know that there are other worlds than these, so, what about them? Is there someone like you in every world? In fact, is there another you, in every world? Or, are you special? Are you one who can slide back and forth through the worlds as you please, never running the threat of coming across another you? If that was the case, would you go? Would you travel those hidden back roads between the worlds? If so, why? Would you be an intrepid explorer, forging new paths through places no one from your world would ever dream of? Or would you be doing it because someone asked you to? Maybe some day, while you find yourself taking a hot bath, or playing with your friends, or just relaxing after a long day, you hear something. Way back in the deepest recesses of your mind, you hear a voice. You try to block it out, saying that it's stress, or an overactive imagination. But, that voice, be it sweet or be it terrible, gets louder, as the days pass. Eventually, it gets to the point where you can hardly do anything without hearing that voice echo in your mind. It asks something of you. It always asks. Do you accept? Or do you believe yourself mad? Do you spend the rest of your days in a padded cell... Or, do you wander through another door, and try to find the source of that otherworldly beckoning?

Countless different worlds, countless different people. Countless different creatures that some only know of in storybooks, but, who reside behind different doorways. All these different worlds... All these different potential creatures... Things that people only believed to be true in fairy tales.... Could it be that everything is floating free in some vaporous aether that we'll never be able to comprehend? Or... Is there a connecting point? A nexus, if you will. One place, one world, from which all the others can be accessed. Would that be considered the 'real' world? Realer, in fact, than the one that you've always known? If that were the case, what would happen if that world started to rot away? Would it eventually deteriorate into nothingness, sending all those multitudes of other worlds floating into some aether as we thought before? Or, does the crumbling and breaking of the beams which hold that one nexus world together drag the other worlds with it? Perhaps, once the destruction is complete, all things dissolve into nothing but darkness. Worlds crash in onto one another, dragging everything and every one into a single new world built on ruin and terror. Because, as we all know, things are in the darkness. Things that slither and hiss and make that old adage about what you can't see not hurting you seem like a distant and foolish fairy tale. Maybe... Just maybe... Should all of that occur... If you looked just hard enough... Behind all the darkness, you would see the crimson eyes of something even worse, just waiting to take control over all that you know, and all that you are...

Time is an interesting concept. We always like to believe that we can quantify or understand it, but, in truth, can we? We only hold an abstract notion of what we believe time to be. And, even with that, sometimes, we just don't know. Roland Deschain set out on his quest for the Dark Tower somewhere along the path of that abstract notion of time. He found his ka-tet along the way, and made a legend. However, who's to say that on this abstract time line, someone, or some group didn't come before him? Or after? Certainly, he must not have been the only one. But, with all these worlds, and this damnable abstract of time, who can say for sure?

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the Gunslinger followed."

...One story...

...One path, in one world, in one abstract time frame...

...Only one thing stays constant...

...The Dark Tower : Genesis...

So, where do we stand, in this world?

The World has indeed, moved on.

Worlds seem to bleed into other Worlds, and the membranous aether that floats between the dimensions is thinning and wearing away in some places. In All-World, the Beams, are breaking.

Some still remain, yes. If that weren't the case, there would be nothing more to live for. The Worlds would all fall in on one another, and Chaos, The Red, would reign supreme. There should be six Beams. At the moment, there are three remaining. The other three have fallen into ruin, thanks to the Crimson King and his machinations.

Of the three that remain, only two are at their full strength. The Path of the Lion and Snake, and the Path of the Eagle and Horse. These two have been untouched by The Red, and thus continue to hold the Tower strong. The third, the Path of the Wolf and Elephant, is being eroded as each moment passes. There isn't much more that it can take, however. And, once that Beam falls, the other two will be fair game.

As said before, the Worlds have begun to fall in upon one another. Rogue portals, Doors, have begun to appear throughout All-World, opening upon any multitude of other Worlds and Times. Travellers pass through them at an alarming rate. Some come purposefully, some are guided here by voices in the back of their minds, and others stumble in, not knowing at all what awaits them.

Still, the World continues to turn. Time continues to pass. And, the reality of everything continues to erode beneath it all. If the Crimson King is not stopped, all will fall into Darkness. And, if that happens, every world will fold into one, horrific, twisted caricature of what should be. And, The Red will command it all.

I thought this was important to save. It explains why Josh is alone on the farm

Joshua stood frozen, holding his breath, standing by the table as his Uncle James came into the kitchen and smiled. Josh slowly let his breath out as Uncle James said “Good morning Joshua, what would you like for breakfast, boy?” and coughed, covering his mouth. He reached in his back pocket, took out a red and white engineer’s handkerchief and wiped his mouth, then shoved the handkerchief pack in the hip pocket of his jeans.

Josh’s uncle had come to the farm after Josh’s mother and father had died of the virus, some called Mr. Trips, to take care of Joshua and the family farm. The farm had been in the family for nearly one hundred and eighty-five years. It had been passed down from father to eldest son since the early 1800’s.

“G-g-g-good m-m-m-morning uncle J-j-j-j-james. I w-w-w-will j-j-j-just have some c-c-c-c-cereal. Th-th-th-then c-c-c-come help you w-w-w-with th-th-th-the ch-chores.” Joshua said, as he walked over to the refrigerator and took out some milk, set it on the counter, reached in the cupboard for a bowl and a box of corn flakes. He fixed a bowl of cereal and put the milk back in the refrigerator. sat down at the table and ate his breakfast.

As he ate James sat down “Another nightmare Josh? You know they are only dreams and can’t hurt you.” he said as he looked kindly on his nephew, with a bit of concern in his eyes.

“I kn-kn-kn-ow Uncle J-j-j-j-ames.” Josh said as he continued to eat.

“All right Josh, I’ll be out in the barn. When your done come on out, we have hay to put up in the loft and then I want to check the south fence. You can drive us out there in the truck if you want.” James said as he got up and walked to the back door. Once James was out in the yard, Josh could hear him coughing again, through the screen door.

Josh finished his breakfast, washed the dishes and placed then in the drying rack. He then went upstairs and put on a shirt, socks and his work boots. Combed is semi-long hair which amounted to running his finger’s through itand brushed his teeth. Joshua then walked back down the stairs, through the kitchen and out towards the barn. As he walked into the barn he picked up a pair of leather gloves and climbed the ladder to the loft. His uncle had already placed several square bales on the conveyor and started them up and into the loft.

After several hours, they had the hay bales stacked in the loft, and Josh climbed down the ladder and walked out of the barn. His uncle handed him a cold can of Coca-Cola and said “Good work Josh, lets take a breather then you go get the truck and we’ll go take a look at that south fence. Maybe you better grab a couple of fishing poles too. I bet the fish are biting in the river. What do you think?” he said with a grin as he grabbed his handkerchief and began to cough again.

Josh looked at his uncle, with concern in his eyes and smiled weakly, “ P-p-p-p-probably s-s-s-s-so Uncle J-j-j-james.” Josh finished his cola, walked to the house to get the fishing poles and the old 1953 Ford step side pick up farm truck. The truck had been a workhorse on the farm since his grandfather bought it new at Hebenstien’s Ford dealership in Antes Fort in 1953. Today, it showed it’s age, the tailgate was gone, the black paint had turned a dark charcoal gray and there were a few dents here and there. But the engine ran like new. Josh had been driving it on the farm since he was old enough to see over the steering wheel. His grandfather had even bolted wooden blocks on the pedals so he could reach them. The seat had an old blanket over it to cover where some of the springs showed. His dad and he had put an AM/FM cassette radio they had bought at a farm auction one Saturday, in the glove compartment and the speakers under the seat.

Joshua walked up the steps, opened the screen door and stepped on to the back porch. He grabbed two fishing poles, the tackle box, turned, ran5out the door and down the steps, the screened door slamming behind him. He could almost hear his mother yell at him “Damn it, Joshua Daniels if you don’t stop slamming that screen door, I’m gonna snatch you bald headed!” But of course he would never hear that again and his heart sank as he remembered the day she had been rushed to the hospital in the ambulance. That was the last time he saw her. Even the funeral had been a closed casket.

What he did not know, nor would he ever, is that the casket had been empty. Her body had been burned as had all the others that had died from the mysterious virus. Three days latter his father had died of the same virus and Uncle James had come to live with him.Joshua laid the fishing poles and tackle box in the back of the truck and climbed in. He started the old truck and drove to the barn, where is uncle was bent over coughing into his handkerchief.

Uncle James climbed in, wiping his mouth and said “Well let’s get goin’ boy. Them fish ain’t gonna jump out of the river and dance for us.”Josh could see dark circle under his uncle's eyes as he put the truck in gear and headed out across the field to the river. His uncle then opened the glove box, turned on the stereo and pushed the Jackson Brown cassette "THE PRETENDER" in. The song "Daddy's Tune" began to play.

As the truck bounced along the cow path leading to the river bank, Uncle James’ coughing persisted, growing worse and more constant. Joshua finally stopped the truck by the river bank and James climbed out of the truck. As he coughed and stumbled to the edge of the river, he sat on a rock just above the flowing river.Joshua climbed out and reached into the bed of the truck for the fishing gear. With his head down, reaching for his uncle’s fishing pole, Joshua heard a splash. Looking up his uncle was no where to be seen. Joshua frantically looked all around, dropped the fishing gear and ran towards the river bank.

“U-u-u-u-uncle J-j-j-j-j-ames! U-u-u-u-ucle J-j-j-j-j-ames!” he yelled as he scanned the river. There being carried down the river as it swiftly ran, was his uncle floating face down. Joshua ran down the bank along the edge of the river, until he was out of breath and his uncle floated away. He had been too far out in the river for Joshua to try and reach him. Somewhere in the back of Joshua’s mind he knew his uncle, who had been an all state swimming champion and life guard in high school, had died before he hit the water.

Joshua collapsed on the ground, holding his side in tears, he knew now he was truly alone. He had to get help!

Joshua got up and ran to the truck, climbed in, started the motor and sped across the field towards the gate and the gravel road that led to Antes Fort. He brought the truck to a stop a mere inches from the gate, jumped out, unchained the gate and pushed it open, ran around the truck and jumped into the drivers seat. He stomped on the clutch, put the truck in first gear, stomped on the accelerator and released the clutch. The old truck’s tires spun and the truck careened out onto the gravel road, has he sped towards town. The truck bounced across the railroad tracks at the end of main street. That is when Joshua slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt, killing the engine, and stared in disbelief out of the cracked windshield.

As if he were a zombie Joshua, in shock, reached over and turned off the cassette deck as the song “The Price You Pay.” ended. There was not a sound to be heard. Main street was littered with dead bodies, swollen, some in doorways, some hanging out of car doors. Others lay along the sidewalk and in the street. Some of his classmates were among the dead. He climbed out of the truck and walked up to a young girl, she was in his math class. Lying on her stomach on the sidewalk, her sundress had ridden up the back of her legs and Josh could just see the edge of her underwear. He knelt down and pulled her dress down, as he turned her over. Immediately, Joshua lost his breakfast on the sidewalk, next to her. The pretty young girl was Susan Summers, who he had had a crush on since first grade, her face was bruised and her neck swollen. Blood covered he nose, mouth and eyes. There were streaks of dried blood in the corners of the once sparkling deep blue, now lifeless eyes and dried blood matted her corn silk hair.

Joshua got up and walked around town, going into stores only to find more dead bodies in the same condition. Some had their fingers in their eye sockets and the eyeballs hanging out.

Outside Charlie’s Grocery was a bench, Joshua sat down on it and stared at the body of Doctor Hepinmime, laying in the street. Josh just sat there staring. Then he began to laugh hysterically, Doctor Hepinmime had one brown sock and one dark blue one on. Joshua laughed until he began to cry, he was really alone now. A lone pigeon, landed on the hood of Henry Jacobson’s new Mustang, and stared back at Joshua, Henry’s swollen arm hung out the window his class ring sparkling in the sunlight, then flew off.A brief refection in a mirror of the display window of Issac’s Hardware caught Josh’s eye, it was there only a split second, then it was gone and a cold chill ran up Josh’s spine causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Josh stood up off the bench and walked over to the display window that began to glow in a red and orange light. Fear began to race through his small body, as he approached. Then an old wrinkled black hand seemed to extinguish the light and Josh felt strangely at ease. An old mans voice, kindly, yet commanding, with a slight twang to it, weathered and beaten, yet musical much like Josh remembered his Grandfather’s said “ There is no need ta fear me boy, you come see me. I think I kin hep ya’all. Some friends a mine be commin’ yur way. You make em welcome and giv' 'em sum eats an rest. Ya hear me boy. ” Then the old black man’s image vanished and nothing was left in the window but merchandise of Issac’s Hardware Store and a cracked mirror on a medicine cabinet door on display.Josh felt something in his closed right hand, he looked down and opened it. There in his palm was an old scratched and worn Marine Band harmonica.

Joshua immediately dropped the harmonica on the sidewalk, stepped back and stared at it for several minutes. He looked around to see if someone had slipped it in his hand as he stared at the display window. There was no one around. When he looked back down at the harmonica, the pigeon was standing next to it cooing. Josh reached down and picked it back up, the pigeon cocked his head and flew off.

Josh stuffed the harmonica in his pocket and walked back to the truck. He climbed in and sat there a moment. “You make em’ welcome and giv’ em eats and rest” the old man had said, Josh thought. He looked over at “Charlie’s Grocery”, started the truck and made a u-turn pulling up in front of the grocery store. He got out and walked inside the open door. He immediately turned around and ran back out to vomit in the street. The stench was horrendous from the half dozen dead bodies inside. After recovering a bit, Joshua got up off his knees, took the handkerchief from his back pocket and tied it around his nose and mouth. He then walked back into “Charlie’s Grocery” and back to the isle where the spices were. Removing the handkerchief, reaching up he took two bottles of vanilla extract, opened then and poured the contents on his handkerchief. He then put it back over his mouth and nose, ran to the front of the store and grabbed a shopping cart.

Josh then went to the canned good isle and started filling the cart with soup, canned vegetables, pork and beans and canned fruits. He then went to the cereal isle and grabbed several boxes of breakfast cereals. Passing the medicine isle he cleared the selves of aspirin, vitamins, pain relievers and first aid supplies. Shoving the heavy cart out to the truck he unloaded the items in the back. He walked back in the store and up to the check out. Walking behind the counter, he almost stumbled over Mr. Jacobson, lying on the floor. His face was swollen and bruised, his eyes had popped out of their sockets and he had an evil grimace on his face.

Joshua reached beside the cash register and took out the charge book, opened it to the Daniel’s account page and listed as much of what he had taken as he could remember. He then signed his name, as he was putting it back he noticed the register drawer was open. His hand reached over to the drawer and closed it. He then walked out of the grocery store, climbed in the truck and sat there thinking, looking at the Hunting Supplies sign in Issac’s Hardware Store window.

As a point of explanation. This tale is loosley based on the Stephen King Story "The Stand" and "The Dark Tower" series by Stephen King. There is a group of survivors from a deadly bio-virus called Captain Trips heading west from New York, towards Josh who is located in rural Pennsylvania. Josh is the sole survivor of a small rural community, you is following the requests of a mysterious, phantom Black Blues player. The Blues player has told a member of the group heading west to get out of New York and head west.

It started out as most any other thing. Not really paid attention to until it made itself so noticeable I couldn’t help but notice it. When I was little, I would catch a glimpse of something moving in the mirrors near me. It was so quick, I didn’t think anything about it. A flash here. A jerk like movement there. Always just out of range of my true vision. Picking it up in my peripheral. I just chalked it up to my vivid imagination. Like my Mom said. Little girls who have lots of time on their hands invent things.

God how I wish that were still true. Maybe then I wouldn’t find myself living among the many lost souls in the Manhattan Psychiatric Center trying to convince the doctors on an almost daily basis I really DO see these things and I’m not imagining them. But…why should I try anymore? It’s not like they really believe me. They placate me by saying all the clinical responses of positive reinforcement them shove antipsychotic pills down my throat to try and make the “visions” go away.

Somehow, I get the feeling that by the time they realize the truth of the matter, like I do, it will be too late for them and the millions of other people walking around in a daze thinking the world will never end. Yeah. I bet she never thought her world would end either, but for the past 20 years, I’ve watched her world fall into ruin. Trust me. It’s about as bad as it sounds.

I was 5 when it first happened. At that age, I didn’t know what it was so like any little girl, I ran to Mommy for protection and help. But when Mommy didn’t see anything in the mirror, I was left on my own. By the time I made it to high school, I realized I was the only one that could see the things I was catching glimpses of. I could tell by the looks on the faces of the other kids at school when I breeched the subject. I got that “freakzilla” look and quickly learned what the word “shunned” meant. Needless to say, the word “alone” was used quite frequently in my vocabulary. Oh sure, the guys would show interest to try and get what they wanted, but then they learned I really believed what I was talking about, they had no trouble treating me like I was Typhoid Mary.

And of course, by the time I was getting ready to graduate high school and seek out my college of choice, the sightings were beginning to happen more frequently. Oh yeah, and I was starting to see some of the “other side”. It looked a lot like ours, but with a few differences. Everything was bleak and dismal looking. While the room I was seeing in the mirror was set up like the one I was in, there were noticeable differences that told me it wasn’t the room I was in, but…a room in an alternate universe. For lack of a better way to describe it. The chair would be in the opposite corner of the room and it would be a slightly darker shade then the one in my room. Still, it was such a quick flash I never really got to compare it all that much.

But then came college. If you thought High School was tough on the social ladder of life, college is 100 times worse. I chose a school far away from home in Ohio, Franciscan University, to major in psychiatric sciences so I could try and better understand what was happening to me and see if there were others out there like me. Hell, I even excelled in my studies. Seems I had found my true calling in life.

Ah, but life throws curve balls all the time, doesn’t it? As was the case with me. The visions kept happening, even while I was in Ohio, but like all things, I learned to live with them, had even come to expect them. But I wasn’t expecting what I saw when I went home for Christmas my Junior year. Oh now THAT was quite the shocker.

Like all other mornings, I got up, went into the bathroom, stepped into the shower, got out, dried myself off, wrapped the towel around me and walked over to the sinks and wiped the steam off the mirror. The face in the mirror frightened me so much that I screamed and jumped back. And like with most other morbid things, I was grotesquely fascinated by what I saw. The young woman in the mirror looked a lot like me, but….didn’t.

Her eyes were near hollow. Dark circles surrounded them. Her cheeks were sunk in and her cheek bones very pronounced. Even her shoulders were thin, so much so that I could actually see the ball and socket joint protruding. She looked more like a skeleton with skin on it than a person. I saw the room behind her and realized it was a room like the one I was in, but it had suffered years of decay….just as it looked like she had suffered.

I was so struck by what I was seeing that I didn’t hear my Dad pounding on the door of the bathroom and eventually breaking the door down to make sure I was alright. I blinked as the whole house was in my bathroom and looking at me with concern and when I looked back to the mirror, the vision was gone. I tried to explain what I was seeing to my Mom and Dad, but they thought I was having some sort of mental break down. That….being away from home was “too stressful” on me and I needed to be evaluated for my mental state.

I’m fine. But do you think I could convince anyone else of that? I knew I was in trouble after the first meeting with the first psychologist I was sent to. That’s when the drugs started. He claimed I was suffering separation anxiety and prescribed me some kind of drug that was to calm me down. Needless to say, I spiraled downhill from there.

Oh yeah…and those visions? They kept coming more frequently now.

Finally, out of desperation, my folks had me committed, involuntarily, here. And every day, I go see the doc, he nods his head, looks at me like I’m a lost cause, writes a note in his journal then sends me back to my room where I’m soon visited by a nurse and a rather large ward. She hands me the paper cup with the pill in it, I take it, chase it down with tepid water from another paper cup then get ready to see what my next vision will be.

And this one is a doozy. I can see her. She’s frightened now. The look of sheer terror in her eyes and on her face is frightening me. She’s shaking her head. I can see she’s saying something, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. That’s when I see it just outside her room before it fills the doorway. Glowing white eyes surrounded by a misty black form as if it were a cloud. Glaring at her. It starts coming close and she turns to look at me. The fear in her eyes catches the breath in my throat and I claw to try and make myself breathe, but it just isn’t working.

‘Help me’, she says. I still can’t hear her, but I can clearly see what she’s saying. She’s pleading desperately for me to help her. ‘Help me’. ‘Help me’. ‘Help me’. ‘Help me’.

“HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME! WE HAVE TO GET HER OUT OF THERE!!! HURRY! IT’S GONNA BE TOO LATE!!!”

I scream at the top of my lunges for help and I begin to punch, beat, pound and claw at the polished, stainless steel mirror in my room. I can see her trying to get to me, away from that thing and I scream even louder as I try to rip the mirror off the wall. I feel the bruises already forming on my hands and knuckles from hitting the wall and solid mirror so hard.

Large, strong arms grab me from behind and I begin to kick and twist my body around as I scream even more. Soon, more arms are joining those first two and I can feel them limit my movements to the point where I’m soon immobilized. I never let my eyes stray from the mirror and I can see her desperately trying to get to me from the other side.

I feel a prick in my arm and soon my ears are filled with a loud buzzing noise. Just as my eyes begin to lose focus, I look over at the mirror and see nothing…..

“No….please…..not….too…late….”

But a bright white light reflected in the stainless steel from the fluorescent lights in my room.

The outbreak of the virus brought death to the hospital I was resident in. I was visited by a huge, brunging eye in the mirror and the world I saw in that mirror terrified me almost as mch as that eye. It was only through sheer luck and with the help of anotehr patient, my dear friend Sid and a soldier I was able to escape. Not without losing them along the way, though. We got separated and all I remember is heairng gun fire and Sid's voice screaming for me to go. I jumped into the ambulance and took off heading west. Why...I don't know, but all I know is I want to get away from this God foresaken city, that glowing eye and that prison like hospital.

Now, as I travel back country roads, I find myself suffering crying spells as I think of Sid, and the others as they ordered me to escape the madness. All I can hope is that I can reach where ever it is I need to go before the gas tank runs out...and before one of those terrible bloating bodies find me.

____________________________________________________________________________________Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards.